


The King’s Return (ONESHOT)

by eliobelio



Category: Merlin (TV), Merlin BBC
Genre: Arthur discovers the modern world, I just needed to mend my heart, M/M, Merthur - Freeform, Modern AU, Oneshot, Reincarnation AU, They definitely get together ok just wait, This is gonna be short I’m sorry, lots of fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-07
Updated: 2020-05-07
Packaged: 2021-03-02 22:15:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,509
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24054274
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eliobelio/pseuds/eliobelio
Summary: After a century of waiting, pining, desperately trying to remember his lost friend, Merlin finally sees Arthur’s return. But, as the feelings that had been buried hundreds of years ago begin to resurface, and Arthur enters an unknown and terrifying world, it will not be an easy ride.
Relationships: Merlin & Arthur Pendragon (Merlin), Merlin/Arthur, Merlin/Arthur Pendragon (Merlin), Merthur
Comments: 6
Kudos: 69





	The King’s Return (ONESHOT)

**Author's Note:**

> Basically I couldn’t handle the series’ ending so I’m writing a oneshot. First fic so please be kind haha! 
> 
> This doesn’t really have much of a plot, I just wanted to write Arthur’s return. I’m gonna write another fic soon which has a proper plot!

It had been the longest wait of Merlin’s life; and he had been as patient as can be expected when the other half of your soul is at the bottom of a lake and you are unable to reach him. Arthur, the once and future king, had perished at Mordred’s hands over a century earlier, and Merlin had held his friend in his arms as he heaved his last.

‘Thank you.’

Two words, symbolic beyond measure, that carried so much pain... Merlin had heard the strained whisper in his dreams every night since that day, over and over, driving him almost to madness. But, as the warlock sat at the lake’s edge as he had done every evening and every sunrise, he found himself grateful for the agony those words brought. The pain was a reminder that Arthur was real, and that the time in which he lived was too.

Merlin dipped his toes into the water, feeling the smooth sheen of pebbles below the surface, clinking together as the waves lapped his ankles. Somewhere in that lake lay his truest friend and almost-lover, even though it would be hard to believe for anyone who passed. Though he now wore different clothes, spoke with more pain and grit in his voice, and the raw emotion from the event had dulled, Merlin could, in a moment, transport himself back to that day. He’d sent his best friend out into that lake on a boat, screaming and quivering with the agony of watching him float away. Closing his eyes, the warlock whispered aloud, as if Arthur could hear him.

‘Arthur...’ Merlin shook his head slightly, almost begging as he did every morning and every night. ‘I’m waiting, as I always have been. And I will do so until you return. And...’ he sighed, lying back against the grassy bank. ‘I know you will.’

The stars were especially clear that night. The lake, shielded from the world by a thick forest, blocked out the potent, omnipresent noise of the modern world, allowing for privacy and no artificial light to dim those in the sky. Merlin was glad; the roar of traffic and the sight of electricity pylons in this sacred place would remind him of the era he was in. With his feet in the water and the tickle of grass about his head, it was easy, almost too easy, to forget that any time had passed at all. He could be back on that day, when Arthur had breathed his last, and that voice came to him now. 

‘I want you to always... be you.’

‘I’m trying,’ Merlin thought to himself, fingers playing with a daisy at his side. ‘But I can’t be myself without you. I’m not ‘me’ anymore, and I may never be again.’

He knew it was time to leave. Arthur wouldn’t want him to feel the pain - though he felt it keenly - and sleep, though it brought dreams and Arthur with them, the pain he felt when he saw his face was dulled considerably. In fact, his dreams often allowed him to experience their tenderest moments once again, and this solace had kept Merlin alive. One day, as the prophecy told, Arthur was to return. Merlin was not about to die before he could be reunited with his friend.

Merlin climbed into his car, starting the engine and beginning the trip back to his home. The drive allowed for separation from his reverie; from the moments at the lake, where he could think only of his friend, to the bustle of modern living, where Arthur’s ghost felt more distant. This era had technology, the internet, electricity, transport, and Merlin did wonder how Arthur would react if he saw the wild advancements he had slept through at the bottom of that lake. No, not ‘if’; Arthur would return, Merlin reassured himself. It was only a matter of when.

Merlin had taken lovers over the years, unable to carry the burden of his pain on his own. But, as much as he’d tried, he could never commit. No matter if it was man or woman, no matter if they resembled his lost love or not, his thoughts always drifted back to Arthur, and how any touch, embrace, kiss, would be nothing against what his king could offer. Though the most Merlin had experienced with Arthur was a desperate hug before death conquered him, the ghostly touch had haunted him, making him resist any other touch. Nothing could compare.

But, with a lover or without, Merlin had survived. He’d kept himself healthy and somewhat happy for hundreds and hundreds of years, unable to accept that Arthur was gone forever. He must be alive for his return, whenever that might be. He’d mastered all of the instruments, learnt most languages, and had enough knowledge about magic and the world to fill a thousand books. His sorcery had been honed and carefully hidden, lest he end up in a mental facility. But with no Arthur to protect, he felt useless.

Merlin slept fitfully that night, kept awake by unusually horrible dreams that forced him to relive Arthur’s screams of pain, mixed with his own, creating some sort of deathly, dissonant harmony. He awoke with a start the next morning, sweeping sweat from his brow with a trembling hand and trying to slow his breathing. It wasn’t possible to reassure himself that it wasn’t real, that it was just a nightmare, because it absolutely was real and painfully so. The most he could tell himself was that the events had already happened, and that Arthur was at peace.

He should’ve known that something was different that morning; the vivid dreams, his distracted driving on the way to the lake, the oddly palpable tension in the air around the lake... it was all very strange. But the strangest occurrence that morning was, as Merlin sat down at the water’s edge, sliding his feet into the calm surface as usual, the water started to bubble. The wizard frowned, the clouds above him suddenly parting, an inexplicably bright ray blinding him, sending its light into the centre of the lake. Jumping up in fright as the water around that beam started to swirl, Merlin squinted to see the whirling waves, heart pounding as he realised what was happening. It could only be one thing.

Suddenly, with a huge crash of thunder, a figure burst from the swirling lake’s centre, leaping into the air and crashing back down again. Merlin knew that shade of hair anywhere; without a moment’s hesitation, not stopping to strip his clothes so they could be saved, or even to cast a water-separation charm to give him a path to his friend, he dashed into the water, calling out.

‘Arthur! Arthur!’ Merlin ran to the centre of the lake, crashing through the water, not bothering about how much noise he was making. The object of his cries was flailing about, trying to keep himself afloat, coughing and spluttering as water rushed down his throat. Upon reaching him, Merlin grasped Arthur’s arms, hauling him to his feet, the water just shallow enough that they could both stand. 

Words spilling incoherently from his mouth, the wizard embraced his king, grasping his sodden shirt and shaking violently from the shock and sheer joy of it all. Arthur, initially too shocked to react, still coughing up water from his sudden return, pushed the man away, holding him at arms length for a moment. He studied the face before him, before his eyes suddenly filled with ferocious tears of realisation, and the men embraced for the first time in a century, happier than they had ever been to hold each-other again.

‘I can’t believe... I can’t, I-’ Merlin stuttered, gripping his friend’s shirt as hard as he could for fear that he would disappear back under the water. 

‘Me neither, Merlin,’ Arthur replied, burying his head in his friend’s shoulder. ‘Are you real? Where am I? Wha- how long have I been gone?’

They pulled away from each-other, chests heaving, bodies shaking as the water chilled them and their brains struggled to process the morning’s sudden events. 

Merlin replied; ‘Later, I promise... let’s get warm first.’

‘Merlin’s beard, this water is freezing!’ Arthur chuckled, and the pair waded back to the shore, afraid to look away from each-other.

-

Reaching the shore, the friends were able to look at each-other properly for the first time. Arthur was little-changed, still wearing the clothes he had perished in, though they were less bloody and much wetter from his soaking in the lake. His hair was as blonde as Merlin had remembered and his shoulders as broad, though his eyes were much more bewildered and panicked than the warlock had ever seen them. 

Merlin, however, was certainly a different man. His chin sported stubble that had previously been kept shaven, and his hair was somewhat curlier and longer. The jacket and grey shirt on his chest were as modern as Arthur had ever seen, and the denim on his legs was too. Though, in the small details that Arthur recognised immediately, his friend was essentially the same: the small crinkles around his eyes when he smiled, the joyous mischief in his eyes slightly dimmer now after years of pining, but still present, the gentle fullness of his lips... they could recognise each-other in a moment. 

'Where have you been, Arthur?'

Arthur glanced back at the lake, which had since calmed. 'At the bottom of that, I expect. What year is it?'

'2020,' Merlin replied, patting his friend on the back. 'You've been gone for a while.'

Arthur chuckled, shivering. 'I certainly have, haven't I?' 

Seeing that he was shaking from the cold, Merlin rushed back to his car to fetch a towel and a change of clothes, which he had stored there for as long as he could remember, in case of a situation such as this. Running back to Arthur, he wrapped the towel around him and started to rub it on his shoulders and dried his hair as best he could. 

'A servant's duties are never done,' said Arthur with a smile. 'I thought you'd be tired of taking care of me.'

Merlin shook his head, tending to his King with the care he'd been wanting to give for a century. 'Never. I've had a bit of a break, remember! I think I can handle this. Anyway, you're seeing the world with fresh eyes. You want to be able to see it without shivering.'

The words Merlin so desperately wanted to say prickled his tongue. I missed you. I'm glad you're here. Where have you been all these years? Do you know how many times I've tried to love another but never could, because they could never compare to you? But he bit his tongue, trying not to overwhelm Arthur.

The man in question started to ask all about life in the new, modern world. The idea of electricity, cars, heating, technology... it screamed 'sorcery' to Arthur. Merlin had to reassure him, over and over, that this was the new version of science that had existed when Arthur was king. It was just much more advanced. Merlin knew that the only way to reassure his friend was to show him the wonders of modern technology, and for that, they had to leave the lake. 

'I brought clothes,' Merlin said, handing over the pile. 'Are you strong enough to change?'

Arthur frowned. 'What's wrong with what I'm wearing now? I think I look perfectly fine.'

'You look a thousand years old, sire,' was the reply, the clothes falling into the king's arms. 'You'll need to blend in a bit more.' 

Arthur unfolded the garments with trepidation. They looked relatively harmless, but were more similar to sleeping clothes, rather than anything he'd wear before the court. Ah... Arthur had to remind himself that he was no longer king. The world had changed beyond recognition, and his power had deteriorated. If he must wear these strange clothes and blend in, and if that would make Merlin happy... he looked up and saw the man looking expectantly at him... then he would do so. He'd had his taste of power and it had been his end.

With the resurgence of some interesting emotions after being away from Arthur hundreds of years, Merlin turned away while Arthur changed. As the chain mail clunked to the floor, he couldn’t help the flush slowly building on his cheeks. He’d dressed Arthur many times, and had bathed him too, but this somehow felt different. 

The feeling was mutual; once the pair climbed into the car, Arthur trying not to tremble with fright as the engine roared to life, he found himself reaching for Merlin’s hand as fear took over. The warlock initially gasped and drew his hand sharply away, surprised by both the contact and the feelings it enhanced. But, after a moment that showed that consideration was put into the action, Merlin took the hand back off the driving wheel and took Arthur’s in his, squeezing it slightly. The King wasn’t used to feeling weak, and this could’ve made him faint. Distance certainly did make the heart grow fonder. 

After the journey home in alien clothes, Arthur felt rather vulnerable. The noise of the world was loud in his ears, making his head spin, and the romantic feelings that he had tried so hard to bury during his kingship were threatening to resurface. The only solace he wished for was his oldest friend, his almost lover, and he didn’t let go of the wizard’s hand until they fell asleep that night. 

Just before they fell asleep, and once every light had been switched off to avoid Arthur panicking, Merlin found that the emotion could be restrained no longer.

‘I missed you,’ he said, as the king lay in his bed and the wizard lay in a sleeping bag on the floor. ‘More than you can ever know. It was my destiny, my duty, to protect you, and I failed. I’ll never forgive myself.’

Arthur turned over to face his friend, secretly overjoyed that his pining was to be reciprocated. ‘You cannot blame yourself. You tried your best.’

‘Perhaps now, I can have another chance. I can make it up to you, if you’ll let me. I can protect you again.’

Arthur smiled. ‘You are many things, Merlin, but you’re not a coward. I can protect you, too, once I figure out this... strange world, where things heat up without fire and there’s a tiny sun in your ceiling.’

The king paused, considering his next move, before inviting Merlin to sleep in the bed too. Seeing him on the floor, tossing and turning and trying to sleep soundly, was too much for him. Nervously, the boy climbed in, and Arthur tentatively welcomed him into his arms.

Before they drifted off, finally re-united and holding each-other just as they did on that dreadful day, all those years ago, the long-lost lovers sealed that first day together with a kiss.


End file.
